


Cacophony

by Hiver_Frost_Elf



Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Bullying, Demons, First Dates, Food, Gen, Gun Violence, Humor, Magic, Minor Character Death, Mother-Son Relationship, homophobia relating to Hartley's backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-10 08:58:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,523
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17422850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hiver_Frost_Elf/pseuds/Hiver_Frost_Elf
Summary: I cast a spell and I liked it (hope my best friend don't mind it) — modified from Katy Perry's I Kissed a GirlA tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing — Shakespeare, Macbeth





	1. Emerald Begins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chapter inspired by Batman Begins
> 
> also, Tony Woodward and the bullying are in the flashback sequence, so if those topics upset you, skip the stuff set aside in the block quote

Casey held onto the pole as he watched the city go by.  He swayed with the train and against the train as it rumbled beneath their feet until he found a rhythm he liked best.  He had shoes and a suit just like Hartley’s.  Well, it wasn’t exactly like Hartley’s.  This suit was custom-made with fabric that was heavy enough to keep Casey from floating away.  Normal suits were too bouncy; that’s how he explained it to Hartley.  Whenever Casey was nervous to tell an adult something, he told it to Hartley first because if it was a hard-to-talk time, Hartley would tell an adult for him, and if it wasn’t, Hartley would help him say it like a grownup.  Hartley knew how to make everything from _Lion King_ to doodling sound grown-up.

Hartley’s advice worked; thus, Casey was the proud owner of this especially special tuxedo—Vanessa bought it though.

Vanessa asked if Casey wanted a bowtie or a necktie whenever they went out shopping for fancy outfits, and he always said a bowtie cuz bowties reminded him of her.  Bowties looked like butterflies, so whenever he drew bowties or butterflies, he thought of her because “Vanessa” meant “butterfly”.  Casey even drew a bowtie on a butterfly once!  He didn’t give it to Hartley because he liked rats best.  He also preferred neckties over bowties, so Casey drew him a rat in a necktie.  Casey used to draw rats and mice the same, but he’d been putting in more of an effort to make his rats look like rats ever since befriending him.  Hartley liked rats like Casey liked cats, and Casey wouldn’t want to be friends with someone who drew cats and dogs the same.

Casey didn’t bring his drawing stuff on the train though, so he looked out the window instead.  Well, he was looking out the window until he noticed how light slid across his oxfords.  Snakes dancing across freshly-polished leather.  Twisting and rolling like ribbons run through scissors and then tossed into the air.

Vanessa told him to look out the window, “It’s Hartley’s tower.”

“It’s not Hartley’s yet,” Casey said when he saw the tallest tower in Central City. “He’ll get it when he’s old like you.”

Vanessa’s laughter was more air than sound, “Actually, Rachel and Osgood plan to have him inherit Rathaway Industries when he’s twenty-one.”

“That’s when you started eMerch.”

Vanessa nodded, her soft-edged face paired with a fur coat: the red one she wore to be comfy while impressing people.  Sometimes, Casey put it on and napped on the couch when he wanted a cocoon.

“You could build something that could be seen all over the city, too.”

Vanessa glanced out the window, then turned her gaze back to him, “When I ordered the construction for eMerch’s corporate headquarters, I wanted a building that was low to the ground so that I’d never lose sight of my customers, or later, the people I wanted to help.”

“Investments for the Betterment of Humanity!” Casey proudly recited the full name of IBH, the foundation Vanessa had started to fund charitable projects throughout the world.

Casey still didn’t know why she built the train when everyone already had cars.  The train was fun, though.

“That’s true, but cars use gas, and gas has been expensive as of late.  I commissioned this train for people whose finances are much less secure than ours and the Rathaway’s.”

“That’s everyone, Mommy,” Casey smiled because that was silly.  The train wasn’t going to help everyone, because not everyone lived in Central City.

“I know,” Vanessa’s smile was strange.  They couldn’t figure it out.  Hartley would know if it was a happy smile or not, but she probably wouldn’t be making it when he got to talk to him next. “There’s a lot of people in the world, and there’s only so much any one person can do…” Vanessa leaned forward and squeezed his hand three times. “I want you to remember that when you’re older.”

“It’s our stop, Mommy, c’mon!” Casey tugged Vanessa to the exit once the train stopped.

Casey hopped from the train to the platform at the station.  It was only a short walk to the theater: a short walk made longer by all the knickknacks on the way.  Soon, he fell to the charm of crystals.  Some were speckled with light while others had each plane smooth like a varnished table.  Clear specimens were mixed into the rainbow display while some specimens were rainbows all by themselves.  Necklaces, rings, clusters, and gems all on their own…

“Casey…” Vanessa clasped his hand, beckoning him patiently.

He looked back over his shoulder at the crystals for as long as he could.

“Be careful,” she said as he pattered over icier parts of the sidewalk.

“I am!” he said right before he slipped—just a little bit!  He didn’t fall or anything…  He frowned when Vanessa cast Heat Fan to melt the ice in front of them. “Mawwwm, I’m not a baby.”

“I didn’t do it for you, I did it for me,” her smile was off to the side: the kind Hartley did when he was correct and the teacher wasn’t. “I’m wearing heels, I have less of a grip than you.”

…That sounded reasonable.  Casey was still suspicious of that lopsided smile, though.  But then they arrived!  Casey grinned when the staff welcomed them as Miss and Mister Emer.

The auditorium had fuzzy felt seats that delighted Casey’s fingertips.  He splayed his hand so he’d feel the fibers on the center of his hand.  He focused on the seats instead of the chatter in the audience.  They were red yet purple too: roses that wanted worship instead of romance.  Casey sat forward when some gentlemen joined them.  The gentlemen greeted Vanessa; and Vanessa, them.  Apparently, the three of them all had a meeting together on Monday at eleven.  Everyone hushed when the lights dimmed.  Darkness was Casey’s favorite part of the theater.

He flinched when the announcer was an inch too loud.  And a snap after he sighed when the announcer stopped, more loud happened!  Strings grinding, trumpets cackling like sirens, flutes as shrill as a rat plummeting to the floor.  Casey clutched the armrests and sealed his mouth up tight.

“See the blond girl on the left?  Hartley’s right behind her.”

Casey found him shortly.  Hartley was playing and looking his best—even if he was too loud.  Hartley didn’t even need sheet music; he’d practiced enough that he’d memorized all the notes.  But he had sheet music anyway so he wouldn’t stand out.

> “I’ll be doing plenty of that during my solo,” he’d said at recess the week before.  He was going to play a song he’d composed all on his own!
> 
> Casey had finished pushing him on the swing and hopped into a swing of his own when Tony showed up.  He’d been on the baseball team and smelled like it too.  He’d laughed when he passed Hartley and Casey in gym class, and he’d grumbled when they got a question right after he got it wrong.  The only thing about him that had been remotely refined was his hair: slicked back and brown like the dirt stains on his uniform.
> 
> “Hey, Casey!”
> 
> Hartley had narrowed his eyes.  They’d both stopped swinging.
> 
> “How does your mom run a company and take care of you?  It’s not like you have butlers like Hartley.”
> 
> “Your team has twenty-two people on it, yet you haven’t won a game.”
> 
> Tony had puffed his chest and flicked Hartley’s glasses down, “Shut up, Geekaway, nobody’s talking to you.”
> 
> Casey chimed in, “Mommy does all her meetings while I’m at school, and then she works from home when I’m done.”
> 
> “‘Mommy’? What are you, a baby???” Tony cracked his knuckles and closed in on Casey.
> 
> Casey had used the head start he’d gained from dashing down the hill to cast Allegro.  Vanessa had taught it to him in case anyone tried to kidnap him, but it worked to run away from boy boulders too.  Hartley had yelled at him to punch him in the health class zone, but that involved being near Tony, and Tony was a lot better at punching than Casey was.
> 
> But Casey hadn’t been paying too much attention to where he was running until he’d crashed into the baseball coach.
> 
> “Those are some fast legs you have there, Emer, but tryouts were last month,” he’d helped Casey up.
> 
> “If your mom can make her own money, you can take your own beating!!!” Tony had said before he’d frozen on sight of the coach.
> 
> “And you can sit your own butt in the principal’s office, Woodward!” he’d looked back at Casey. “Try out next year, Emer,” he’d glared at Tony, “there’ll be an opening if someone still has his attitude problem by then.”
> 
> Hartley hadn’t caught up to Casey until Tony and the coach had entered the building.  He’d needed forever to catch his breath, “You’ve been… holding back… in gym class.”
> 
> “Going that fast makes me hungry,” Casey had braced his tummy.
> 
> “Oh, well, in that case, let’s head in for an early lunch, and then we can read together.”
> 
> Their English teacher just sent them to the library after they finished their classwork since they knew all the answers and read way faster and better than the others.  Their classmates put no emotion into their reading like Hartley, Casey, and their teacher did.
> 
> “ _Christmas Carol_!”
> 
> Hartley had shaken his head and closed his eyes, “We read that one last week.”
> 
> “Again! Again! Again!”
> 
> “Christmas was last month.”
> 
> “Again! Again! Again!”
> 
> “Fine, but we’re reading something different next week—something neither of us have ever read before.”
> 
> “Blehhh! New,” Casey had stuck his tongue out to gag.  What if it was a boring book? Or a bad book?? Or a sad book???
> 
> “New and varied experiences are integral to our development.”
> 
> Casey had been rolling his eyes until Hartley pulled him close.
> 
> “You don’t want to become a Neanderthal like Tony, do you?”
> 
> “No!”
> 
> “C’mon then; let’s go!” Hartley had picked up speed to race him to the door once they’d gotten up the hill.  Casey had thought about casting Allegro again, but he hadn’t wanted to get any hungrier.  Plus, he hadn’t wanted Hartley to notice his magic.  It had already been a close call running away from Tony.
> 
> Hartley was a boy of science.  Magic wasn’t scientific.  What if Hartley learned about Casey and Vanessa’s magic and decided he didn’t want to be friends anymore?  He’d miss jogging with him in gym class, reading with him during English class, and just being with him during recess and lunch.  And who would go to Hartley’s concerts if Casey didn’t?

The music stopped during the intermission, but the noise didn’t.  Shoes clattering against hardwood floors, folks chattering about the concert thus far.  Casey was sniffling from the strain to not cry.

“Casey?” Vanessa clasped his hand once she found him after she’d finished in the bathroom. “Casey, what’s wrong?”

“It’s loud, Mommy…” Casey pressed one ear against her coat and braced the other with his free hand.

His voice was very soft and very quiet when he said _ow_ , yet Vanessa heard it anyway.

“Casey, you’re hurting, we should go home,” she was already leading him towards the door.

He dug his heels in, “But I wanna be here for Hartley!  He’s playing a solo tonight—he made a song all by himself!”

“Honeycomb, Hartley will understand.  He wouldn’t want you here if he knew you were hurting.”

Casey couldn’t stop himself from crying now.  Everyone else was sitting through the concert just fine, why couldn’t he!?  What was wrong with him?  Why was he a freak???

“Casey Johnathan Emer, you are not a—” Vanessa stopped dead in her tracks.

“…Mommy?” he tried to look, but Vanessa locked his head over her shoulder.

“Money,” muttered a shaky voice. “Money!”

Vanessa tossed her wallet at him.

“The jewels too.”

“Okay, just. Just wait,” she finally set him down, not taking her eyes off the man waving his gun at them. “Casey, stay behind me.”

The gunshot was the loudest sound of the night.

“…I was going to give them to you and send you on your way,” Vanessa said as the man choked on blood from having his own bullet pierce his heart.  Casey shifted even more behind her. “But then you threatened my child.”

She plucked her wallet and called the cops.  Casey clutched her hand the entire time.  The cops took her word and the body and sent them on their way.  One of the cops gave him a golden retriever plushie that he hugged the whole time.

* * *

Fred had just started taking Vanessa Emer’s statement, and Joe was put in charge of her boy.  The first thing Joe did was calm him down.  The poor thing had gotten into his head that she was going to jail.

“Your mother’s not in trouble, son, she’s just telling us what happened for our records,” Joe said. “Can you take deep breaths for me?”

Casey’s breath eventually slowed down, and he wiped his tears on his sleeve, then went right back to hugging his pup.

Joe glanced at it, “Did you name your puppy yet?”

“I thought about Travis.”

“Travis is a good name.”

“But I already have a Littlest Pet Shop golden retriever named Travis.”

“My daughter had so many of those,” Joe snorted, recalling troves of critters when Iris was Casey’s age.

“Where’d they all go?” Casey clutched his pup closer and curled his legs tighter under the bench.  Joe worked fast to allay his fears.

“She gave the geckos to her little brother and made sure the rest got good homes.  She kept her turtles, though.  No one’s taking the McSnurtle family away from her.”

Casey perked up, “What are their names?”

A tall order, but doable.

…Was the pink one named Rosy or Daffodil?

“Oh, boy, let’s see, there’s,” Joe whipped out his fingers to count them all, “Daddy McSnurtle, Mama McSnurtle, Snappy McSnurtle, Rosy McSnurtle…”

By the time Joe listed all of the McSnurtles, Fred finished up with Miss Emer, and then they explained Casey’s job.  He just needed to tell them what happened that night.  His mother would be there with him the whole time, and his puppy could be there too.  They even asked if he wanted Fred or Joe to take his statement.  Casey chose Joe.  Joe figured he would; he seemed like the type who’d clutch any thread of familiarity rather than take a chance on something new.

He shut down a couple times and needed some pacing breaks, but that was to be expected considering what he’d witnessed.  Even adults had trouble with that sorta thing.  Joe’s own son was too young to remember Francine’s death, but Iris couldn’t function when its anniversary came around.  Hell, Joe only could cuz his kids needed him.

Afterwards, Joe thanked them for their time.  He didn’t think they’d need anything else from them, but he explained they’d call if they did.  Sounded like Vanessa had gotten ahold of the crook’s gun and shot him once he started threatening Casey; Vanessa didn’t have any DNA on the weapon since she was wearing gloves.  She was a good shot too: clean through his heart.  Joe would do the exact same thing if it was him and his kids, assuming he didn’t have his own weapon at the time.  He hoped Casey got the therapy he needed to stop thinking she’d done it with magic, though.

* * *

Later, Vanessa taught him Armor: a spell that would protect him.  Later, Hartley would play his song just for Casey; it was full of life and pizazz and made Casey get up and dance.  Later, Vanessa would explain that Anthony lost his scholarship through his own poor choices, not because of anything Casey did.

But he still felt like a freak.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> finally looking at this on AO3, my god, that's a longass flashback sequence XD what is that, half the chapter???
> 
> -checks-
> 
> okay, so it's a lil under 700 words out of an almost 2700 word chapter, so it's not quite half
> 
> but still 😬
> 
> however, the good news is that's the only flashback in this thing so far, so if you made it through this one, you're done for while
> 
> there will be lots more scene breaks from here on out though, so if you hate those, i dunno what to tell ya
> 
> also, i'm on [dreamwidth](https://hiverforestelf.dreamwidth.org/) now
> 
> it's mostly just bullshit at the moment, but i'm planning on using it to post supplementary material for this (pics of [Vanessa's theatergoing outfit](https://hiverforestelf.dreamwidth.org/1238.html#cutid1) for instance), so if that sounds like something you're interested in, i'll chuck links in the notes as i make them


	2. Demons in the Mall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> specific chapter warnings include: John smoking, Hartley's parents' homophobia, and a demon hitting on an underage character (but quickly stopping that once she's made aware of how young he is)
> 
> many thanks to my various British friends helping me with John ilu 💙
> 
> might've overdone it with the demon's accent, but at this point I don't give a fuck
> 
> enjoy

“How do I look?”

Joe whipped his head back when he saw his son come down the stairs in a platinum varsity jacket, matching pants, and winged high tops, “…Are you trying to blind your date or something?”

“Iris!” Wally deflated when even his sister cringed at his outfit. “He’s affluent and educated and hilarious.  I need to impress him.”

“Wally, you’re the most courageous young man I know,” Joe said, “Remember when you wore dresses every day to school last year to protest the dress code?  That’s impressive to me.”

“And you’re a great drag racer,” Iris winked.

The siblings snickered when Joe returned to the game, “I will pretend I didn’t hear that.”

“I said that he’s also learning Japanese: one of the hardest languages for English speakers to learn.”

“And not illegal, like drag racing,” Joe hummed. “I have it on good authority that law-abiding citizens are also extremely impressive.”

But Iris and Wally were already upstairs rifling through his closet.

* * *

“How do I look?” Hartley emerged from the depths of his closet smoothing out a cable-knit vest.  He was also wearing pressed, tweed trousers and a collared shirt.  The only thing he needed to complete the tenured professor look was a bowtie patterned with beakers or pencils.

Casey’s eyes bugged out when he looked up from his sketchbook, “I thought you were done with college ‘til the fall?”

Hartley threw up his hands and fled into the hall, “Alfred! Help me!”

Alfred assessed the damage, “I don’t see why you’re fretting so much for a trip to the mall, Master Hartley.  Just wear something comfortable—especially for your feet; you don’t want to be pillaging stores without proper support.”

Casey nodded in agreement then tilted his head to the side when Hartley said, “I want to dress to impress.”

Alfred blinked at him, then said to Casey, “Now, I don’t mean this as an insult,” then back to Hartley, “but Master Emer’s very easy to impress.  You’re working on a PhD when most people are working on their high school diploma, you’ve performed in multiple concerts, and you design and build noise-cancelling headphones for Master Casey and hearing aids for yourself on the regular.”

“With cat ears!” Casey grinned as he showed off his sleek, emerald-colored accessory.

“Who wouldn’t be impressed with you?”

Hartley looked up at Alfred and smiled.

“But don’t go in tweed,” said Alfred. “You’re going to the mall, not giving a lecture.”

* * *

“My hair’s fine, right?” Hartley slowed to a crawl once they got to the food court.  He carefully felt up his hair, “Did it get frizzy from the rain—it feels frizzy!”

“Oh my god!” Casey rolled his eyes and took off his Bulbasaur hat. “If you’re that worried about your hair, wear a hat.”

“Casey Jonathan Emer, don’t you dare mess up my hair!” Hartley batted the offending garment away.

Wally waved to them from a table for two.  Casey tried pushing Hartley over there, but he wouldn’t budge.

“Will you just go?  I have to go!”

“You said you were free!” Hartley clutched Casey’s shoulders.  He was supposed to be doing the shopping Hartley claimed he’d be doing this afternoon.

“I need to go to the bathroom!” Casey exhaled exasperation as he turned towards the restroom. “Hartley Jared Rathaway, if you’re not over there when I get back, I’ll go on your date and watch people skip homework and fall in love and bleh!”

Wally was grinning as he leaned over the table when Hartley finally arrived, “Nervous?”

“Absolutely not.” Liar, liar, tech on fire.

“Oh, good, that makes one of us,” Wally chuckled. “I was terrified.”

“You? The dress code protesting drag racer?” Hartley practically choked on shock. “There’s no chance in hell anything could scare you.”

“A crossdressing bi guy going on a date with a gay kid from a homophobic household?” Wally smiled. “You’re right, dude, you’re the brave one here.”

Hartley ducked his head to the side to hide his blush, and Wally wanted to make him blush again!

“I’m the bravest of ‘em all cuz I ordered the food,” Casey said as he brought over a pizza and a duet of drinks.  He’d volunteered to do it so the lovebirds could talk more to each other in person instead of online.

“And you’re to be commended, my friend,” Wally patted Casey’s shoulder.

“I’m going to all the nerd stores.  Want anything, Wally?”

“Nah, I’m all—”

“I could buy your house with my allowance.”

Hartley internally screamed at Casey then suggested to Wally, “…You can buy our tickets.”

Wally cringed, then clenched his jaw, and then shrugged, “…Welllll, I mean, there is one thing…”

“Get me some rat toys,” Hartley called out as Casey left.  He supposed he’d have to bring something back from his alleged shopping trip. “Our movie ends at six!”

Casey gave them a thumbs up, not even bothering to look back.

“You look stunning by the way,” Hartley said between bites of pepper and olive pizza.

“Oh, oh, really?” Wally smiled from ear to ear.  He was in a dark brown button up and a high-waisted pleated midi skirt. “I was also thinking you look chic.”

Hartley was in cargo shorts and a _powered by caffeine_ raglan.  He smiled through his next bite.

“Did you read the book?” Wally thought it might be wishful thinking, considering, but then again, it might’ve been obscure enough that Rachel and Osgood wouldn’t recognize it.

“Uh, yes, I put a Harry Potter book jacket over it.”

Casey was checking out a book too when some old fart started complaining that occultists could only cast spells if their intelligence equaled ten plus the spell level.

“Healing Thief, Toxic Gift…” he laughed. “Level three, my arse.  A novice could cast these in their sleep!”

“So what’s stopping you?” Casey put down his own book to look up at the dipshit.  He had a sloppy grin, sloppier hair, and a trench coat caked in the stench of every vice he smoked and drank and fucked.

“What, you offering to be a crash test dummy?” he looked down at him.  He tilted his head to the side and narrowed his eyes to scrutinize him.

Casey rolled his eyes and would’ve retorted if they hadn’t caught a customer waltzing away from a dazed cashier.  She had messy buns, an aster print shirt, and a miniskirt that sat high on her hips.  She was giggling as she slipped out with a pouch of… something in her amber-nailed clutch.

“You didn’t pay for that, luv.”

Her eyes flickered between him and the dipshit before she blew the dipshit a kiss and tore out of the store.  Thus, commenced a pursuit!  She swam between the crowd and left the guys stumbling through it.  Casey cast Allegro during a clearing and tackled her only to scrunch his eyebrows in confusion when she disappeared in a spray of lavender dust beneath him.

“That’s why you look familiar—you’re V’s boy, aren’t you? Vanessa Emer?” the dipshit’s grin parted and his eyebrows tried to Brexit from his face.

“How do you know my mom?” Casey scrambled to his feet and clenched his fists.

His grin became sloppy again, “I tested my charisma modifier against her fortitude save,” he drooped, eyes off to the side, and his grin tightened into a thin line, “and scored a critical failure cuz not even Lucy himself could open the gates to that hell.”

Casey raised an eyebrow, and then gestured to the vanishing dust beneath him, “So who were we chasing?”

The dipshit’s lips went off to the side as his head pulled back, “Ya know, now would be a good time to say _how dare you try to shag me mum_.”

“I’m seventeen, I don’t care,” Casey fixed his hood, put on his headphones, and scanned the area for the thief. “So who the hell are you, and who the hell is she?”

“More like who _in_ Hell is she!”

Cricket chirps.

The dipshit whistled _tough crowd_ before continuing, “She goes by Jessica Keith.  A minor demon in the grand scheme of things, but she’s still trouble.  She likes dice and jewels—especially if it comes in orange.  And I’m,” he whipped a card out of his pocket and handed it to Casey.  The font was functional over fashionable.  No logo, no colors.  Nothing to look at except the text.

**John Constantine**

_Exorcist, Demonologist, and Master of the dark arts_

404 (248) – 7182

“You need a graphic designer,” Casey gave it back.  It was the most boringass fucking thing he’d ever lain eyes on in his life.  He didn’t think anything would ever top geology homework.  Oh, his naïve fourteen-year-old self. “At least laminate ‘em.”

“ _Laminate them_ he says—it’s already on cardstock!” the card woofed when he waved it in Casey’s face. “That makes it thick, like my condiments.”

Casey smirked, “You weren’t gonna say _condiments_.”

“Yeah, well, I wouldn’t be going this long without a smoke either, but there’s bloody children here!”

A toddler and her mother passed around them along with some others, so Casey followed John to an alcove.  Didn’t want to cause a panic with all this talk of demons in the mall.

“ _Bloody_ ’s a swear.”

“Not in America!  You Yanks can keep me from my Cadbury’s, but you’ll never get my _bloody_! Ha!”

“…You wouldn’t be able to smoke anyway even if there weren’t kids here; we’re in a building!”

“Look, kid—Casey, right?” John clamped his shoulder after Casey nodded. “You’re almost an adult, but you’re still a kid according to the rules, so I get that you want in on the action.  But I’m at least ten years ahead of you in the class of life, so stop trying to beat me in a snarking contest, cuz you won’t win.”

Casey shrugged.  He wasn’t planning on moving out or anything, so eighteen would be just another number for him; and even if he cared to have the best wit, there were currently more important things to do.

“Do you have anything to track her with?”

John smiled and opened his trench coat to dig into an inner pocket, “As a matter of fact, I do.”

* * *

“I prefer it, as a matter of fact,” Wally said before grabbing a handful of popcorn.  Hartley had berated himself for not asking if it was okay to put extra butter on it first, but he’d been so eager to get back to him that his sense had abandoned him.  Hartley relaxed knowing that it was fine—good, even!  He settled back in to snark at the previews when a trio ran down the aisle and disappeared through the big screen.

“…Was that Casey and a man chasing after a woman?” Wally asked.

It was just a hallucination brought upon the anxiety of defying homophobia.  That had to be it. “I’m going to pretend I didn’t see that.”

Wally chuckled and closed his eyes.  Hartley could compose an ode to Wally’s laughter.  He would!  He vowed to once he got home.  But that would require leaving, and Hartley wanted this date to last forever.  Wally was a brilliant engineer in his own right, and he hadn’t had the resources and free time Hartley had growing up.  He learned everything he knew from the internet and whatever books and bits and bobs he could get his hands on.

“Are you liking our date so far?”

“Liking it? It’s perfect,” Hartley snuggled up to him.

“Your perfect date is pizza and a film?” Wally smiled and tilted his head towards Hartley.

“You’re here, so yes.”

Wally wreathed an arm around him, and Hartley could’ve melted from how much gooey romantic crap had conquered his heart.

* * *

“Hey, so what was my mom like when you were rolling against her fortitude save?” Casey buried his hands in his sweatshirt while John waited for his scry map to locate Jessica again.  They’d lost her somewhere between the fifth dimension and the cinema.  John figured this would be as good a time as any for a smoke.  Casey cast Armor to protect his lungs even after John claimed inhaling one cig wasn’t gonna hurt him.  John also said that Jessica was into dice and jewels, yet here Casey was, minus his Bulbasaur Snapback.

“Focused and kind, with no patience for anybody’s shit,” John breathed in more smelly carcinogens.

“Soooo would you know what flowers she likes best?”

“Buyin’ your mum flowers for Christmas? D’awwww,” John punch-tapped Casey’s shoulder, then got back to scrying. “…Hold on, Christmas is months off.”

“It’s actually for Mother’s Day—and I’m not just getting her flowers, hopefully…” Casey squirmed a bit. “She’s always wanted a wedding, but she doesn’t wanna get married.  She just wants a fancy party and a dress and stuff.” Casey huffed, frustrated at himself. “I was looking at flowers and cakes online, but I don’t wanna get anything she doesn’t like.  And weddings already require a bunch of phone calls, and this is so weird, and I’m terrible on the phone…” He looked away from John and into the car-packed parking lot.  Only a few spots free in the entire place.

John looked away from his scry map.  He smiled around his cig, “Tell you what, kid, after we send this demon packing, I’ll stick around and help you get your mum not married!”

* * *

Wally and Hartley decided to pretend they didn’t see Casey and those two strangers run through the theater again, but they couldn’t ignore their empty popcorn bag, so Hartley got up to fetch round two.  He envied the lead and his boyfriend making mushy eyes at each other on commemorative buckets.  Merchandise could be openly gay, yet here he was, making sure tickets to a gayass movie didn’t show up on his credit card because his parents’ values were as antiquated as their company!

“Sir?”

Hartley startled out of his thoughts and went up to the counter, “A large popcorn with extra butter, please.”

“In a commemorative bucket?  Just two dollars extra.”

“No, thank you,” he swiped his card, his eyes as defeated as his soul.

* * *

John’s eyes scrutinized Casey when he teleported to his side, “Where the hell’d you go?”

“I had to put something in my room.  Did you lose her again?”

“No! She’s right there,” he flicked his head over towards her.

She was savoring a milkshake topped with halfway-melted whipped cream.  She wasn’t even wearing Casey’s hat!  It was just on the table with her like a trophy.  She wouldn’t even be able to wear it anyway with her hair done up in those buns.

“If you can distract her for a couple minutes, I can set up a banishing spell.”

Casey marched over there, “Gimme my hat back!”

“You want something from a demon, sugar, you gotta strike up a deal,” Jessica fluttered her lashes with one hand around her milkshake and another firmly on his hat.

Casey folded his arms, “I’m not giving you my soul.”

“Why, I would never buy a soul with a hat!” she scoffed as if such an insulation assassinated her character. “Only the nastiest, slimiest monster’s soul is worth a hat, sugar.  I’ll buy yours with something special!”

Casey rolled his eyes.

“A kiss is a better price for a hat,” she puckered up.

“Ah-uh… I-I dunno how demon ages work, but I’m underage for a human.”

“Oh!” she blushed and hid her mouth behind the hand that’d been holding her milkshake.  She couldn’t even look at him a solid minute. “Hmm… then how ‘bout you buy me round two?  Medium chocolate with whipped cream and a cherry.” She pointed to the joint she got it from.

Casey took a deep breath as he approached the counter, going over her order in his head 1) so he wouldn’t forget and 2) so the right words would come out of his mouth.  Even then, his chest bunched up and his head overheated with anxiety catching every verbal fumble.  He took another deep breath when he had the drink in hand.

“Thanks ever so much, sugar,” she hummed in delight when she took the first sip. “Shopping is thirsty work!”

“Stealing is thirsty work,” he narrowed his eyes as he sat down, feet on the rung on the chair, hands in his sweatshirt.

“Don’t worry none, sugar, it’s just acrylic for some costume jewelry,” Jessica held the gems between her fingers after putting his hat on him.  Sure enough, they were as fake as she claimed.

“Why didn’t you just pay for ‘em then?” he asked while he fixed his hat.

“It’s more fun that way!” she grinned. “Plus, it got your attention!”

Casey leaned away from her.

“Oh, don’t worry ‘bout that,” she whisked them back into the pouch. “I’m immortal, I can wait.”

Casey looked at the table and took stock off how light waltzed across each fractal of glass, “I don’t really do sex…”

Her round eyes blinked before she giggled, “You’ve been spending too much time with your Uncle Johnny if you think sex is the only way we could have fun.  There’s all sorts of—” she blushed again, “well, we’ll have that chat when you’re older.” Her cellphone buzzed. “Oh! That’s my six o’clock.  Gotta go, sugar.  Got deals to make and hearts to break!”

“You can break those hearts in hell!” John cackled as he banished her.  She didn’t sound too upset as she waved bye to Casey, as if John’s spell was merely a minor inconvenience.  Casey didn’t know how dark magic worked; he had magic that made use of darkness, but his and Vanessa’s magic was more environmental.  But still, it was a job well done, so he high-fived John.

And then he rushed off cuz he only had fifteen minutes to buy Hartley and Wally’s crap.  He swore he heard John laughing behind him.

* * *

“Do you not know how to walk indoors anymore?” Hartley raised a brow when Casey caught up with them.

“Shut ahhhp…  Here, give this to Wally.”

Hartley shoved the box back, “No! You give it to him; you bought it! God!”

“Thanks, Casey!” Wally accepted it as soon as he got back from the bathroom: a Mjölnir toolbox!

“No problem, Wally,” Casey shrugged. “You need a ride home?”

“Ah, no, my sister’s bringing me home, but thank you.”

Hartley’s phone buzzed, “That’s Alfred.  Goodbye, Wally.”

Wally smiled, “Goodbye, Hartley.”

“Goodbye, Wally…” Hartley smiled back, trailing slowly behind Casey.

Wally snickered, “Goodbye, Hartley…”

“Oh my god, can we just go!?  I’ve been dealing with people for hours!” Casey dragged Hartley towards the exit.  Anyone who claimed artists were eccentric had clearly never met a scientist.  Or maybe Hartley was doubly eccentric since he was both an artist and a scientist.

He handed Hartley a pack of piñatas for his rats.  It wouldn’t do if Hartley was unfamiliar with what _he_ bought.  They were all shaped like vegetables: corn, a carrot, a potato, and a tomato.  Hartley snarked at the packaging for claiming that tomatoes were vegetables, and Casey snarked that while intelligent folks knew tomatoes were vegetables, wise folks knew not to put tomatoes in fruit salad.

“I know a recipe for cherry tomato fruit salad,” Alfred said when the guys got in the Rolls-Royce. “You’ll have to stay for supper sometime, Master Casey.”

“I should, your cooking’s great!” he nodded as he took off his headphones.  He actually was hungry from all the magic he’d used that afternoon, but he’d grab something at home.  Right now, he just closed his eyes and rested.

* * *

Wally went to the kitchen with a bounce in his gait, freshly-showered and knowing exactly what he wanted for breakfast, ready for whatever the day brought.

Except one thing.

“Wally?” Iris bit her lip.  She’d texted Joe after she'd checked her emails that morning, and he agreed that this was serious. “You should stay home from school today.”

“What? Why???” Wally paused his plundering of the pantry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Jessica Keith pics](https://hiverforestelf.dreamwidth.org/1752.html)


	3. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> specific chapter warnings include an appearance by Rachel and Osgood Rathaway, which they spend being homophobic jerks

Why?

Why did Alfred leave with him?

He was happy working—working there!  His family had been working for the Rathaways for generations.  Wh-why break from tradition for him???

Hartley had his head on his rats’ cage.  White-and-gold Annie was standing up against the wall, gray-and-black Jump was curled up in the bedding, and black-and-brown Cannon was in the upper alcove.  Their coats were glossy and fluffy, yet Hartley was snotty, and his tears wouldn’t stop.

Why???

Alfred looked at him through the rearview mirror and saw nothing more than a head of brown hair that had more important things to worry about than being tidy.  Merely the evening before, he was bringing Hartley home in this car.  Now… everything that was Hartley’s: diplomas, awards, laptop, clothes, books, music, tools, flute, and pets… they were all in this car—along with Alfred’s, but he was a man of spartan possessions.

“Staying would mean losing someone that I have cared for since I first heard his cries echo through that house.  I can earn money anywhere, but you are more important.”

Hartley picked up his head and gulped, “But, but… but your family legacy!”

“Here’s the thing about family legacies, Master Hartley, we can make better ones.”

Hartley mulled it over, “I won’t have much of a legacy living on the street.”

“We’re not going to live on the street—”

“You’re not taking us to Wally’s house, are you?” Hartley knew in the back of his head that Alfred didn’t know where Wally lived, but the guilt of draining a cop’s meager salary got the best of him.

* * *

Casey hugged Hartley as soon as they arrived at the door.  He darted out to the car to help bring more of Hartley’s stuff inside while Alfred spoke to Vanessa.

He held his hands behind him, “I doubt my previous employers will give me a good recommendation, Miss Emer…”

Vanessa Emer wore her chocolate strawberry hair in a chignon that kept every strand away from her hot chocolate eyes.  She also apparently wore red sweaters and light blue jeans on her days off.  Hardly the furs and dresses she wore to impress or the suits she wore during business.  Yet her eyes were still sharp enough to cut diamonds as she regarded the old fool before her.

“No recommendations needed, Alfred Pennyworth,” she smiled with soft eyes and her head ever so slightly ajar. “I assume you can start today?”

“That I can, ma’am,” Alfred nodded, determined to impress.

The first day of a new job was the most important, although he certainly anticipated growing pains.  The Emer… condominium was hardly the Rathaway mansion.  The Emers had never employed a butler, Casey did chores, their housecleaner only came every other Tuesday, and groceries came on Saturdays.  Still, while short—two bathrooms; three bedrooms; one balcony; and a living room, a dining room, and a kitchen open for viewing from the others—Alfred was grateful for a tour of the home.

“Should I procure lodgings elsewhere?”

“No, no, we’ll figure this out,” Vanessa held her chin as she concentrated on her thoughts.

“I can sleep on the couch,” Casey offered, to which both Alfred and Hartley objected, refusing to put him out of his own room. “I like the couch.” As if to demonstrate, he lay on his side across the blue cotton blend.

“You can pull it out,” Vanessa said.

“I like it better when it’s in couch mode.  It pushes my back,” Casey closed his eyes.

“Wait,” said Hartley. “What do you mean you can pull it out?”

Casey made a fanfare noise after he tossed the cushions to the side and pulled it out a bed.  A loofah version of a witch’s familiar hopped onto it.

“Cat! I was gonna…” Casey devolved into a huff and a slouch.  His home attire wasn’t any different than what he wore outside: dark sweatshirt, dark jeans, silly socks.

“Looks like you’re using the couch bed now,” Vanessa snickered as she petted the cat: Miss Kitka.  She seemed more interested in the hybrid furniture than her new housemates.  Alfred didn’t blame her; he’d heard of such things, yet this was the first time he’d seen one in person, while Hartley was utterly flabbergasted.  Better to have his mind on the enigmas of new money than on earlier events.

* * *

When Hartley was as settled in Casey’s room as he was going to be, Casey grabbed something from the shelf in his closet and held it out to him, “Hey, um… I know it’s lame, and you probably don’t want it anymore—I can take it back…”

Hartley’s gaze flickered between Casey and the gayass commemorative popcorn bowl.  He snatched it up.

“I love it!”

Casey froze when Hartley hugged him, yet he swiftly hugged him back.

* * *

The following morning, Vanessa discovered that Casey was already putting the groceries away.

“What are you doing up, honeycomb?” she helped him play refrigerator Tetris.

He hummed, tight-lipped for a moment.  Vanessa frowned.  That meant he was worrying, and that he thought his worries were ridiculous, yet he couldn’t stop worrying because there might be something to worry about.

“{…Are you and Alfred gonna get in trouble for kidnapping Hartley or something?}”

Vanessa put down the butter to squeeze his hand three times.  Casey resorting to telepathy meant he needed extra love.  His tears fell to her shoulder when he hugged her.

“Rachel and Osgood disowned him; that means he can live wherever he wants,” she moved his bangs out of his eyes, hair and eyes too dark to see their color when the sun was asleep.  He needed a haircut. “If anyone’s getting in trouble, it’s them.”

He tilted his head.

“They probably could’ve gotten away with this in the 70s, but now?  Rathaway Industries has already taken a hit,” she showed him a chart of the company’s declining stocks.  If they felt no pain in their hearts, they’d suffer a wallet attack. “CEOs can be fired from their own company if they don’t own a controlling share.”

“{You can get fired???}” Casey’s eyes whipped up to her, wide and watery.

“I can’t, because I don’t have to answer to shareholders,” she squeezed his hand three times, “but Rathaway Industries is a publicly-traded company, and that comes with the expectation to make more and more money every quarter.”

“{Isn’t that what every company should do?}”

“Every company should make a profit, yes,” she nodded, rearranging the iced tea and milk to fit better, “but the expectation—the demand on companies like Rathaway Industries is to always be making more.  You made one-million dollars last quarter, great; make two-million this quarter.  Two-million’s not enough anymore, make two-billion.  You need to be very careful what contracts you sign and with whom.”

Casey mulled it over as he fished two sheet pans out of the pocket under the oven.  Vanessa put away the rest of the groceries, but she left the bacon and eggs out so he could cook them.

He put two sheets of bacon in the oven and set the timer for chewy bacon.  Then he’d take one sheet out and leave the other in for a couple more minutes to make crunchy bacon.

Alfred soon came in, apologizing for not waking sooner, but Vanessa assured him that she only woke up this early to put away groceries before work, and Casey usually wasn’t up this early.

“Alfred, how do you like your eggs?” Casey asked.  She wondered if he was speaking out loud again because he was okay now or if he felt like he had to keep their magic secret.  Vanessa thought about how to eventually tell them…

“I can make everyone’s breakfast, Master Casey.”

Casey shifted the carton of eggs away from him, “I always make breakfast…”

“Let him help you, honeycomb,” Vanessa looked up from checking the news and confirming her schedule. “There’s four of us to make breakfast for now.”

Miss Kitka hopped into her lap and began kneading her legs.

“Five,” she petted her, smiling.

“Honeycomb???” Hartley wandered into the dining room and plunked down at the table in one of the seats at her side.

“Casey had jaundice when he was a baby.”

He was golden just like a honeycomb.  It was under a Bili light that Vanessa first held his hand…

“Alfred, did I have jaundice?” Hartley asked.

Alfred turned out to face him.  He held a bowl of pancake batter in one hand and whisked it with the other, “Master Hartley, you caught so many illnesses growing up, I’m surprised you didn’t get jaundice.  Chickenpox, the flu, two bouts of pneumonia in one winter—one year, we all thought you had leukemia; turns out, you just needed more iron in your diet.  If there was a germ anywhere on the planet, it had a first-class ticket to your body.”

Miss Kitka hopped out of Vanessa’s lap and into Hartley’s.  Hartley was surprised she came over yet pleasantly so.  He tentatively petted her, and she chirped at him.

“Does she eat bacon?” Hartley asked.  He didn’t, but maybe the cat would like some.

“Nah, she’s not really food-motivated,” Casey shook his head and took three strips of the chewy bacon before flitting away to feed the cat and to help Alfred bring over the pancakes and everyone’s eggs: scrambled for Vanessa and Hartley, fried for Alfred, and sunny-side up for Casey—no surprise there. “She loves toys though—especially feather wands.”

Hartley strained himself to refrain from saying _she likes feather wands, does she???_   But Alfred and Vanessa were there too.  wWll, Vanessa would probably just snicker and roll her eyes, but Alfred would be scandalized.

He stayed quiet and peppered his eggs.  He’d been over Casey’s home before, but… it was different this time.  He lived there now.  He wasn’t eating at an otherwise empty table that went on and on, but a square one filled with life and laughter.  An animal roamed free instead of staying in one room.  And the food was prepared by his first friend and his oldest friend rather than a team of personal chefs.

“You can eat in my room if you want,” Casey said.

Hartley spluttered.  It’s not that he hadn’t ever eaten in his own room before, but…

“You look overwhelmed,” he stated matter-of-factly.

“Ah, ah, I’m fine, thank you,” Hartley petted the cat with his offhand. “So this is a day in the life of the Emers, huh?”

“Yep!” Casey was too damn chipper for this early in the morning. “Welcome to the family!”

Hartley was glad he didn’t have a bite in his mouth or he would’ve choked on it.

Family.  That thing that didn’t bother to learn sign language.  That thing that cast him out for not being the straight son they wanted.  That thing that bragged about him rather than praised him.

Hartley didn’t want a family.  He preferred friends—and in Wally’s case, boyfriends.

Oh god, Wally!

> Premium Potter: Are you okay!? Oh, my god, I’m so sorry!
> 
> Drag Queen Racer: I’m alright 😘 What about you? I’m guessing you went to Casey’s house?
> 
> Premium Potter: Yeah… He says we’re family now.
> 
> Drag Queen Racer: Awww
> 
> Premium Potter: No, NOT awww! I haven’t even been here for twenty-four hours yet!
> 
> Drag Queen Racer: You’ve known each other since childhood, though.
> 
> Premium Potter: I know, but family is… difficult.
> 
> Drag Queen Racer: Maybe tell him that instead of me?
> 
> Premium Potter: …
> 
> *Drag Queen Racer invited Casey to the chat*
> 
> Premium Potter: NO DON’T
> 
> Friend on the Other Side: oh
> 
> Premium Potter: -sigh-
> 
> Friend on the Other Side: i’m sorry 😓
> 
> Premium Potter: No, no, it’s not your fault. You have every reason to think family’s the best thing since sliced bread.
> 
> *Friend on the Other Side reacted with 🍞 *

“Are you two texting across the table?” Alfred chuckled before eating another bite of pancake.

“We’re also texting Wally,” Casey said, then told Vanessa. “He’s okay.”

“Oh good,” she exhaled, relieved.

“You told her!?” Hartley asked him, and Casey flash froze.

“I read the news, Hartley,” Vanessa said as she brought her dishes, glass and silverware to the dishwasher.  Thankfully, she didn’t show him any of those goddamn headlines.

“I wouldn’t be opposed to meeting this Wally character,” Alfred added.

> Friend on the Other Side: hey, Wally, since you’re free today~
> 
> Premium Potter: NO
> 
> Friend on the Other Side: yaaaaaaaas
> 
> Drag Queen Racer: Yes, what? :3
> 
> Friend on the Other Side: today would be the PERFECT day to come to my house 😃😃😃
> 
> Premium Potter: (╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻
> 
> Drag Queen Racer: I would love to come!
> 
> Friend on the Other Side: great! we’ll unflip the table for you 😁
> 
> *Drag Queen Racer reacted with 😆 *
> 
> *Premium Potter reacted with 😑 *
> 
> Friend on the Other Side: ┬─┬ ノ( ゜-゜ノ)
> 
> Drag Queen Racer: I mean, I’m not opposed to solitude~
> 
> Premium Potter: No, no, it’s fine. I just don’t want you walking into an interrogation. Alfred wants to meet you.
> 
> Drag Queen Racer: THE Alfred? Lemme text my dad and Iris. I’ll be right over!
> 
> *Friend on the Other Side sent a link*
> 
> Friend on the Other Side: that’s the nearest bus top to my house.  Just put in your address, and it’ll figure out how many connecting busses you’ll need, if any.
> 
> Drag Queen Racer: Sweet! Thanks!

“Hey, Mom, is it okay if Wally comes over?”

“If it’s alright his parents, sure,” Vanessa said as she double-checked the contents of her laptop case.  Casey clarified that Wally only had a dad, but that wasn’t Vanessa what needed to know at the moment. “Will he need a ride home?”

“Um…” Casey texted her question to Wally. “Depends on where Iris ends up today.  She has some interviews lined up this afternoon.”

Vanessa didn’t know if Iris was the interviewer or the interviewee, but she was proud of this stranger anyway.

“I don’t know her number.  That’d be weird.”

“It’s not weird to have your friends’ families’ numbers,” she slipped into leather brogues because that would piss off the people who’d be coming to her two o’clock, and she didn’t have to bother with them anymore. “Something could happen, and we’d need to get into contact with them.  Ask Wally when he’s here.” She opened the door and scanned the room.  Hartley was finishing up his breakfast, Alfred was cleaning the dishwasher unsafe things, and Casey was setting his dishes and silverware into the dishwasher. “Alright, I gotta go.  Hartley, we’ll figure your tuition situation when I get home; Alfred, I’ll deal with your direct deposit; and, Casey, don’t panic.”

Casey grumbled something that sounded like _I don’t panic_.

“Mowww,” Miss Kitka looked up at her with emerald eyes that popped against her obsidian fur.

Vanessa threw her case strap over her shoulder and picked her up to touch noses, “And you, Miss Kitka, let Casey sleep on the couch how he likes it tonight.”

“Merw,” she sounded like she’d consider it.

Casey glomped her goodbye, and then set out to fix the couch before Miss Kitka reclaimed it.  Hartley asked if he’d like help with that.  He said to hand him the cushions.  Casey put them in zipper first.  Hartley had never seen couch cushions with zippers.  He wasn’t even sure if he’d ever seen couch cushions off their couch before, aside from the previous night, of course.

Hartley went back to Casey’s room to fine tune what would become his next set of hearing aids.  His parents used to insist on ordering them, but Hartley had been making better ones since he was seven.  It was a point of pride to donate the ones they’d ordered to charity.  Casey had found him a suitable one after freaking out about his much younger self throwing them away.

It’s not that Hartley was avoiding Casey…  He needed to work on his hearing aids anyway; he strained to hear him at least five times already.  When Casey was anxious or uncertain, he sounded like he was afraid to be heard.  Besides, people exhausted him.  Hartley didn’t want to tire him out, especially with Wally coming over later.

“Where’s my…?” Hartley looked around for the particular screwdriver he needed.  Casey had cleared his desk as best he could, but it was still a clusterfuck of clutter.  Annie came over to the wall of her cage that was closest to him.  She stuck her nose between the bars and sniffed the nearby project.  Jump was nibbling a piñata on the middle platform while Cannon was grabbing a drink of water.

He found the cat on the bed with the tool in her mouth when she chirped at him.

“That’s not a treat, cat,” Hartley reclaimed the tool.  She kept looking at him with those huge, green eyes—probably because he made the mistake of saying the T-word.  He splayed his hands to show her that he didn’t have any.  She craned her neck to sniff his nearest hand, then she high-fived it.  Hartley chuckled.  That must’ve been something Casey or Vanessa taught her.

Then she climbed onto the desk, presumably to high-five the other one, but Hartley put her back on the bed.  There was delicate circuitry on there that he didn’t want her knocking off or shedding in.  When Annie made an excited squeak, Hartley looked at her, then the cat…

He switched the positions of his hearing aids and the cage, and Annie and the cat perked right up as they sniffed each other.  Jump observed the cat while she nibbled on the piñata.  Cannon ventured forth to meet her after refreshing herself.  Hartley hoped the cat wasn’t eying a possible dinner like people who watched live lobsters at a restaurant.

Hartley kept an eye and ear out while he worked in case they started a spat.  He flinched with shock when the cat hopped onto the cage.  He calculated that it’d be able to hold her weight, although Jump squeaked up a storm and hid in the bedding.  Annie went up to the highest alcove while Cannon went to cuddle Jump’s fright away.  The cat perched on her new throne like a sphynx with her front paws hanging over the edge.  Hartley figured everyone would be fine if he left her there…

Hartley hoped everyone would be fine if he left her there.

* * *

Mermaids, ballgowns, A-lines… There were so many styles of dresses out there.  Casey thought of dresses Vanessa typically wore, but what if she wanted something different for this?  For instance, he knew she typically preferred sleeveless dresses, but she also typically wore something over them such as a coat.  Did people wear coats over wedding dresses?

Would she like an illusion neckline or a Queen Anne?

Decals or sparkles?

Veil or flower crown??

Leg slits or no slits???

He gathered images on his laptop.  He didn’t want to show her too many and have her catch on to the surprise, but he also knew nothing about dresses.  Inspired by Wally’s story of self-discovery, he’d tried a dress once when he was messing around waiting for Hartley to finish his classes for the day.  It’d felt floaty: too loose and light.  He couldn’t breathe, and he’d wanted to hide under a weighted blanket the whole time.

Alfred summoned him out of his thoughts, “Are you up for a spot of lunch, Master Casey?”

Casey slid his laptop onto a free cushion to look at what was in the fridge.  He needed to see food to think of what he wanted to eat.  It was impossible for him to pick something out of infinity.  He migrated to the pantry.  An epiphany finally came when he saw the rice.  He fished them out before going back to the fridge to grab shrimp, onions, pineapples, and General Tso’s sauce.

> Friend on the Other Side: allergic to 🍤?
> 
> Drag Queen Racer: Nope~
> 
> *Friend on the Other Side reacted with 👌*

“A stir fry: excellent choice, Master Casey,” Alfred found all the greens for Hartley.

“I was thinking of a sauté actually.  Stir fries freak me out.  I do not need food that pops and hisses at me.”

Alfred chuckled as he gathered the dishes, “Then how about I do the cooking, and you do the prepping?”

Casey’s eyes lit up.  That’s what he liked best about cooking and baking: measuring, cutting, that sorta thing.  Actually cooking food required enough of his concentration to strain him but not enough to fully occupy him.  Some recipes had the audacity to tell him to _flavor to preference_.  He ate spicier and sweeter than most people.  What if he put in too much or not enough and ended up wasting the food cuz he hated it?  It’d be so petty to throw away food in a world where some people starved to death.  And then there were recipes that mixed spices.  Figuring out how much he needed of one spice was hard enough!  How was he supposed to brew some sorta Frankenstein’s flavor???

Casey deveined and de-tailed enough shrimp for himself, Wally, and Alfred.  Hartley didn’t eat meat.  Casey didn’t know how he did it until he’d eaten tofu that tasted just bacon.  Hartley had been eating vegetarian since they were thirteen.

> Some asshole at school had once tried to swap his veggieburger for a hamburger, but Casey had vigilantly dove to protect him.  The two of ‘em had ended up on the ground with Hartley’s glasses askew and their heads knocked together.  Giggles had erupted all around them.
> 
> “Jesus Christ, Casey!!!” Hartley had shoved him off and yelled at him.  Even the other kids had gone quiet.  It’d made front page news in the next edition of the school paper.  There was a video of it on the journalism club’s website, too.
> 
> The cheerleaders had gotten in Hartley’s face to shut up and that the asshole had been plotting to kill him.  The cheerleaders had then proceeded to capture the asshole and let Hartley spend the next forty-five minutes explaining how his body would go ballistic if it was so suddenly reintroduced to meat.  The asshole had ended up squirming and crumbling.  It was always cool watching Hartley smack people with science.
> 
> “I shouldn’t have yelled at you,” Hartley had told him afterwards on the ride home. “Not without hearing your side of the story first.”
> 
> “That’s okay,” Casey looked out the window to see the city aglow with neon.  The windows reflected back their colors on a night otherwise made charcoal by clouds hiding the moon.
> 
> “No, it’s not,” Hartley’s face reflected in the window sternly.  Casey turned back around to face him.  Hartley sighed, arms folded—frustrated at himself or Casey, Casey couldn’t tell. “I shouldn’t ever make you clam up.”
> 
> “Buuuut if I do clam up, you’ll open me up again,” Casey closed his eyes and smiled.  He blinked his eyes open when Hartley started snickering. “What?”
> 
> “God, you’re so innocent.”
> 
> “I am not!” it was Casey’s turn to fold his arms. “I saw Scar kill Mufasa, and I know exactly what ‘Can You Feel the Love Tonight’ is all about!”
> 
> “Uh-huh.”
> 
> “I do!  …What’d I say?”
> 
> “I tell you when you’re older.”
> 
> “I’m the same age as you!”
> 
> “I’ll tell you in a few months then.”
> 
> Casey had tried to figure out what could’ve possibly been an innuendo, but after Hartley had answered _no_ to his best guesses, he’d given up and lain his head across Hartley’s lap instead.  Casey used to not understand why people didn’t need seatbelts in busses of limos, but Hartley had explained that it mostly had to do with how massive those things were compared to other things on the road.
> 
> “I’ll draw you a clam tomorrow,” Casey promised.
> 
> “Oh-okay,” Hartley smiled, shaking his head.
> 
> “And you can be a crab with prosthetic claws you built yourself!” Casey snapped crab hands.
> 
> “That sounds about right.  I was definitely crabby this afternoon, wasn’t I?”
> 
> “Nah, but you snapped at that asshole alright!”
> 
> “Ooh, Casey Emer swearing.”
> 
> “I swear all the fucking time!” Casey snapped his crab hands towards Hartley’s face, but he snatched them up. “Just not at school like all your other friends.”
> 
> “They’re not my friends, they’re my acquaintances.”
> 
> “Oh,” Casey had frowned. “Hartley, you’re people smart, how do you know if someone’s an acquaintance or a friend?”
> 
> Hartley had looked down at him as he considered the question.  He always thought about things for the perfect amount of time.  People never told him to hurry up or slow down.
> 
> “Well,” he’d had said as he idly ran his fingers through Casey’s hair.  Casey loved when he did that!  But he didn’t do it when others were watching. Not anymore.  Not after a bunch of jerks laughed at them for it. “An acquaintance is someone you can be friendly with, and a friend is different for everyone.  For you, a friend is someone who orders food for you and doesn’t rush you or make you worry that you’ve said something wrong.  For me…” he’d looked out the window, but his eyes had looked like they’d gone further than the city. “For me, a friend is someone I don’t have to hide with, but someone who’ll keep me hidden when I do.”
> 
> “What do you have to hide?  You’re the best person ever; everyone likes you…”
> 
> Oh, Casey had been so gloriously naïve.

Casey’s condo was on the ninth floor, seventh door left of the elevator.  It had a wooden C painted green, a wooden V painted red, and a wooden K painted black; and each one glimmered with glitter.  They brought sparks of color to an otherwise white door.

Wally figured he’d knock instead of ring just in case the chime was something obnoxious that bothered Casey—or even Hartley’s hearing aids.  Or the cat.  He’d get to meet the famous Miss Kitka and THE Alfred all in one go!  And if he stuck around long enough, maybe he’d meet Miss Emer, too.

“Wally!” Casey let him in with a smile and a fist bump. “Go ahead and dig in, I’ll go grab Hartley.  He’s been working on his hearing aids.”

Wally couldn’t get over how awesome it was that Hartley built his own hearing aids, laptops, all sorts of stuff.

Once he entered, he noticed he was flanked by walls of photographs, awards, diplomas, and artwork.  They were all arranged in mostly chronological order, so walking through it was like watching Casey and Hartley grow up.  There was nary a square inch free.  His eyes would wander away from one thing and bam—there were all its neighbors!  Somebody in this house had excellent organizational skills to set it all up.

“You must be THE Alfred!” Wally grinned, nearly vibrating with the ecstasy of meeting a celebrity.  He was just as posh and poised as Hartley and Casey had claimed.  Wally felt underdressed just shaking the man’s hand even though the fanciest things Alfred was wearing was a tie and a cardigan.

“It’s my pleasure to make your acquaintance as well, Master Wally.”

Alfred called him _master_ just like the movies!  Wally barely contained his squeal.  He was going to be so embarrassing.

“Casey and I have prepared shrimp stir fry for lunch, and I was informed that you’re especially fond of carrots,” Alfred gestured to a place at the table that was already set.

“You were informed correctly,” Wally sat down.  He felt like royalty when Alfred asked him what he wanted to drink.  He chitchatted with Alfred, although he hoped Hartley and Casey would join him soon.

“I like tight hats and I cannot lie!!!”

…His dad always warned him to be careful what he wished for.

A stone’s throw earlier, Casey ducked into his room to grab Hartley and a hat.  Miss Kitka sitting on the rats’ cage momentarily distracted him from his quest, but after some petting and removing her from the unusual perch, he selected an Avengers-themed Snapback.

“Did you even comb your hair today?”

“Nope,” Casey swept it under his hat. “Ain’t my boyfriend who came over today.”

Hartley huffed as he cleaned up his tools and half-finished hearing aids, “You should always look nice for yourself.”

“…I took a shower, put on deodorant, and brushed my teeth today; I look great!  Brushing your hair just means you don’t have enough hats,” Casey grabbed another Snapback and reached towards Hartley’s head.

“Casey Emer, I will strangle you if that thing touches my hair.”

He grinned and shrugged as he turned towards the door, “It’s not like oxygen reaches my brain anyway~”

“Perhaps if you didn’t wear those hats of yours tight enough to bend your hair…”

“I like tight hats and I cannot lie!  Hi, Wally,” Casey slid into his seat at the table.

“Hi, Casey,” Wally couldn’t help but laugh.  And when he saw his boyfriend, he couldn’t help but sigh. “Hi, Hartley…”

“Hi, Wally…” Hartley couldn’t help but sigh back.

Wally got lost in green eyes, “Hi, Hartley…”

Hartley got lost in brown eyes, “Hi, Wally…”

Casey gagged his disgust and took his food to the bar before it got contaminated with _young love_ and whatever else amused Alfred.  He straightened his slouch to look up at Alfred, “Can’t you see what’s happening?”

Alfred hummed quizzically at him.

“You don’t have a clue.”

“What am I missing, Casey?”

“They’re in love, and here’s the bottom line,” Casey ate one of his last three pineapples. “Our trio’s down to two.”

All Alfred did at impending doom was smile, “Ah, _Lion King_. How appropriate.”

The sweet caress of twilight

“Actually, it’s 11:54,” Alfred gestured to the oven clock.

There's magic everywhere

“Oh, I’ve been known to turn a trick or two, but I assure you, my days of counting cards are far behind me.”

And with all this romantic atmosphere

“The view on the balcony is quite breath-taking, yes,” Alfred nodded.

Disaster's in the air!

“What are you doing now?” Hartley turned around to see.

“No, no, let him keep going,” Wally smiled at the proceedings before digging back into his food. “This is lunch and a show.”

Neither needs to hold back

Or hide parts away

They both can be the kings I know they are

Their hearts aglow like stars

They both fell in love last night

It can be assumed

Their single days and ways are history

In short, my pals are doomed!

Hartley’s clapping was sarcastic, and the jury was out about Alfred’s, but Wally’s was probably genuine.  Casey resumed eating after he said, “Thank you, I’ll be here all week.”

* * *

Vanessa thought she’d be at the office all week at this rate.  The marketing team was trying to be hip with kiddos again, two elevators were jammed, and someone put regular grounds in the coffeemaker designated specifically for decaf.  One sip had her hands shaking, so she switched over to tea.  She glared at her phone that had the audacity to tell her it wasn’t even one yet.

> Mama Bear: How is everybody doing?
> 
> Honeycomb: great! we raided the kitchen & plundered the movie cabinet 🍤🍚😈🎞📼
> 
> Vanessa smiled at the fine array of emojis Casey presented to her.  She asked if he could tell her what movie they were watching in emojis.
> 
> *Honeycomb reacted with 🦁👑*

Vanessa was about to respond when her CFO approached her about the joint venture she’d be canceling in the next meeting.  A week ago, it’d looked like the deal of a lifetime.  The other company had prestige with many older institutions, and eMerch was lauded amongst emerging ones.  It’d been intended to help the other reach markets they currently couldn’t.

“This joint venture was your idea,” he reminded her.  He put his hands in his plaid pockets.  They were well worn with all the tinkering he’d done over the years yet no less firm during a handshake.  His bushy hair was gray instead of black, and he certainly didn’t wear it in as pronounced an afro as he did in his youth, but he still stood tall over his peers. “The consultants loved it when you proposed it; some of them even think their dip in stocks is temporary until the public moves on to the next fiasco.”

“I’m sure some, maybe even most people will let it slide, but I can’t, Lucius,” Vanessa said, holding her mug tight against the now furious quaking through her hands.

“True, but that’s the parent in you speaking.  Principles don’t pay the bills,” he hummed, having mentored her since she was just his neighbor who would’ve settled for independence instead of daring to prosper with the internet she was so savvy with.

“We’ve been paying our bills just fine without them, and we’ll continue to going forward.”

“eMerch was born online in the modern era.  We can’t afford to be seen doing business with outdated individuals.  But still, a phone call or an email would have sufficed.  You don’t want them thinking you’re wasting their time.”

“No, I want them to know I’m wasting their time.”

Lucius smiled approvingly at the impish glint in her eye, “You better get back to your office then.  Your meeting with them is in ten minutes.”

* * *

Vanessa sipped her tea and put her feet up so her brogues would be on full display.  Their antiquated asses could pry her brogues off her cold, dead feet.  Besides, they already detested her business wardrobe for daring to contain colors more vivid than oats, what was one more grievance?

“Mrrrp!” Miss Kitka headbutted her hand.  Her tail lolled off her desk.  Kitty pets worked wonders on her mood, and her ex joint venturers would get even more ticked off to see a creature in a space as sacred as a CEO’s office.  Casey had cast Teleport in order to drop her off and had reported that she’d been on the rats’ cage that morning.

“Oh, my silly kitty,” she smiled as she stroked behind her ears.  She said she’d see Casey later, and then he teleported home.  He understandably didn’t wanna be there when her _guests_ arrived.

They entered center stage.  The man was in a green suit that was so dark, it was almost black while the woman’s shawl went in the opposite direction: a green so light, it was almost white.  She also wore a pearl bracelet while he also wore a marbled tie.  His face was pinched in disgust while hers had sunk with exhaustion.  They were around Vanessa’s age, but they both looked as old as their money and values, and they were not among those blessed to age like fine wine.

Miss Kitka paid their disapproval no mind as she continued to rub against Vanessa’s free hand.  Vanessa smirked once they saw her brogues.

“You could’ve called to cancel the deal,” said the man: Osgood Rathaway.

“Oh, no, I am definitely still interested in getting into bed with the PR nightmare that Rathaway Industries has become.  I have the paperwork right here under a list of why you two are parents of the year,” Vanessa gave them the paper.

Rachel Rathaway gasped her offense once she read it while Osgood’s face became even more screwed up.

  1. Burn
  2. In
  3. Hell
  4. Motherfuckers



“There’s no reason to be vulgar, Vanessa,” said Osgood.

Vanessa countered with, “There’s also no reason to be homophobic, but if I’m dealing with a headache today, so will you.”

“Oh, I assure you, we have plenty of headaches!  A once fine morning interrupted by reports of that boy causing a scandal, fielding phone calls from investors threatening to disassociate from a shameless company, not being able to escape #Rathagay anywhere online!” Osgood steamed when Vanessa put down her tea to mock him with a hand puppet.  His eyes narrowed at her. “You’ll understand when your boy grows up and thinks any choice he makes is respectable.”

“Hartley is a genius, he wouldn’t choose to be gay with parents like you.  And of the three of you, Casey isn’t the one causing a scandal.  Now get the fuck out of my office,” Vanessa didn’t need to tell them twice. “And if either of you or your stooges approach them, the only paperwork you’ll see from me is a restraining order!”

Miss Kitka’s eyes fumed green light as she snarled in their direction.

Vanessa calmed them both down with lots of pets, “I know, sweetie, I hate them too; but thank you for helping me with them today.”

“Rrr-ow,” Miss Kitka’s meow rumbled.

“You can go home now, I’ll be home for dinner.  Please don’t eat Annie, Jump, or Cannon; they’re fluffy and cuddly just like you.”

“Mah!” Miss Kitka snapped her head back at Vanessa, her character assassinated by the mere implication she’d do such a thing.  Miss Kitka was no alley cat.  Only the finest substances breached her digestive system.  Like sour cream and onion chips!  Chips had such a delightful crunch!

* * *

Casey broke off a sliver of his chip and reached back to feed it to Miss Kitka.  She was perched on the back of the couch between him and Hartley with her paws curled beneath her and her tail draped down the couch.  After snacking, he set aside the bag to pick up his sketchbook.  They had _Lion King_ on at the moment, but his heart was in _The Princess and the Frog_.  Miss Kitka gave him headbutts of encouragement as he jotted down stuff.

“Are you sketching some more characters?” Wally asked him, looking across Hartley.

“Ahaha, ah, no,” he was actually modifying lyrics from ‘Almost There’ to suit Vanessa’s situation.  Since searching for dresses earlier didn’t work out, he figured he’d try his hand at preparing the music instead.  He already had some of her favorites in a playlist.  He was no composer, but he could rewrite songs.

“Dude, this all sounds amazing!” Wally said.  If only Casey could actually put it together… “If you plan it for a weekend, I could sing at it.”

“Mother’s Day is on a Sunday; that could work,” Hartley said to Wally after pushing his glasses back into place to rifle through Casey’s notes.  After a few benevolent _hmph_ s, he handed the book back to Casey and offered to help too.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to,” said Casey; he didn’t want family-related things to upset him.

“Well, I want to.”

“I am also happy to lend my assistance,” Alfred said as he rolled down his sleeves and putting his cardigan back on, having finished the dishes. “I might be able to suss out what dress she’d like for this sort of event.”

Casey sparkled with joy at having so many volunteers.  He didn’t know shit about half of the stuff that went into a wedding, but between the four of them…

“Oh,” Casey remembered there were technically five of them. “One of my mom’s is in town for a while, and he said he’d help too.  I forgot to ask for his number, but he said he’d come by sooner or later.”

“Please tell me this isn’t one of those weirdos you were running around the mall with.”

Casey stayed silent.

Hartley sighed, “Of course it is.”

“I thought we were pretending not to see that?” Wally grinned.  Hartley glared playfully at him.  Wally wreathed his arm over him.  Hartley rolled his eyes and smiled.

* * *

Hours later, the boys were notebooks deep into planning while Miss Kitka supervised the proceedings.  They’d found a place with great acoustics that was big enough for all the guests.  Alfred had helped compile the guest list before he shuffled off to fix dinner.  It wasn’t going to be a large affair, so that made some of the arrangements easier.  They were comparing catering companies when the door rang.

Casey rushed to the door, anticipating Vanessa while Hartley and Wally hid everything.  There was a different woman there.  She had her hair in curls instead of a bun.  She was wearing yellow instead of red and a leather jacket instead of a double-breasted one.

“You’re not Mom.”

“Nope, I’m Iris,” she snickered just like Wally, leaving Casey wondering if he snickered like Vanessa.

He let her in and walked her through the hall. “You can have some lasagna if you want.  There’s a lil bit of cheese left and plenty of meat.”

“Ooh, don’t mind if I do!” she selected the meat, and Alfred served her up a portion.  She thanked him and settled at the table next to Wally and put her purse on the floor.  Miss Kitka hopped down from the couch to sniff it.

“How were your interviews, Iris?” Wally asked before digging into seconds.

Turned out that Iris was writing about award-winning local businesses.  She’d hope to spotlight women-run ones specifically, but the ones she’d really been hoping to interview had to back out at the last minute.  Still, she’d gotten some interesting perspectives on what it was like to own and operate a company in Central, and she could always flesh the initial article out into a series if she managed to interview more at a later date.

* * *

Casey greeting Vanessa at the door was no surprise, and she was always happy to see his smiling, eager face—but it was a shock to hear, “Hey, Mom, wanna be interviewed by Iris?  She’s working on an article about women businesspeople!”

Vanessa blinked.  A woman in her mid-twenties—Iris, Vanessa presumed—worked quickly to assure her that she didn’t have to, looking just as shocked as Vanessa that Casey had asked such a thing.

“No, no, I am more than happy to do this,” Vanessa slipped her shoes into the closet and took the two of them over to the bar so the boys could keep going with whatever they were doing on the couch. “If you ever have children, you’ll understand.  If nobody’s bleeding or dying, give me a minute to get in the door.”

No sooner had she set her bag on the counter than Miss Kitka hopped up to sit on it.  A mere platform was not enough for her.  She needed a platform on a platform.  Vanessa snickered and stroked behind her ears.  Miss Kitka squinted and purred lowly.

Obviously, Iris didn’t have any questions prepared for Vanessa specifically, but she came up with some on the fly after asking her the more general questions she’d asked other local business owners earlier that day.  Vanessa was impressed with her knowledge of the internet-oriented inner workings of eMerch.  The last person who’d interviewed her was a man who went to Google’s website before googling anything.  It was a slog to explain everything Casey figured out how to do by the time he was five to someone who was approaching fifty.  But Iris knew her shit.  She made a note to tell the PR department to retweet whatever article came out of this.  If her writing was as good as her interviewing, Vanessa doubted Iris would merely be a blogger for long.

Iris and Wally left not long after she and Vanessa concluded.  Vanessa caught Casey’s eye roll, Iris’s smirk, and Alfred’s fond eyes at Wally and Hartley’s extended farewells.  She also noticed the coffee table cluttered with notes and laptops once Wally and Iris left.

“What have you been working on all day?”

Casey’s eyes widened as he stammered, but Hartley claimed Casey and Wally had been helping him practice for his thesis defense.

She let them keep their secrets.  Casey wasn’t keen on surprises for himself, but whenever he did try to prepare something for her, she never let on that she’d spotted his machinations from far away.  Nothing got past her in business or at home.

* * *

They moved into the new place just in time for Christmas.  A house with bedrooms for all of them, plus a guest.  And three bathrooms, thank fuck.  One bathroom was not enough for four people.  The suburbs were also a plus.  Vanessa noticed right away how quiet it was at night compared to their old place.  Not a car within earshot as opposed to downtown traffic that never slept.

Hartley had his own lab in the basement.  He joked that he didn’t need anything else for Christmas once he’d set that up, but the other three managed to find some goodies anyway.

“Um… so, I know family is hard and stuff,” Casey said to him after the presents had opened. “But I made you this.  I made some for Annie, Jump, and Cannon too.  And Alfred!”

Alfred looked up from where he was relaxing on the sectional.

Hartley examined them: his own wooden letter for the door.  His was in a dark green, while the rats’ were patterned after their coats, and Alfred’s was silver.  They all glittered just like Vanessa’s, Miss Kitka’s and Casey’s.

“Cuz, you know, you live here and stuff…” said Casey.  He watched Hartley put on his coat and slippers. “Where are you going?”

“Want to help me put them on the door?” Hartley asked.

Casey gasped as his eyes shined with delight.  He slipped into his high tops and grabbed the double-sided tape to stick the new letters on the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've marked this as complete because as I was planning for future chapters, I realized that it was going off the flarrowverse rails; so I've decided to continue this fic as original fiction instead. I'll leave these three chapters up here as is (unless I reread them and spot typos and such), I'll just make a version that has all original characters, settings, etc. I'll probably end up posting that exclusively to dreamwidth; I haven't decided if I want to post it here in the original works fandom yet. Nobody gave me hate for this and influenced my decision; I just felt that this was the best move for the story I wanted to tell.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for taking time to read this; enjoy what you do here and everywhere!


End file.
